


Guys just wanna have fun!

by Priamparamparam



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Kissing, Drunk karaoke, F/M, M/M, Multi, Victory, just some Guys havin fun, like heavy drinking, scout and spy cant handle their booze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priamparamparam/pseuds/Priamparamparam
Summary: You convince Medic to get drunk with you. No wonder he never gets drunk in front of others.
Relationships: BLU Medic/Reader, Medic (Team Fortress 2)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	Guys just wanna have fun!

**Author's Note:**

> I ate four mango and peach mini pies while writing this, and I am posting this at 1am.
> 
> I might add on some saucy sexy shit in a second chapter, but idk. Would love y'alls opinion.
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO!!!! This while fanfic is based off a drawing I did, which you can find at this link: https://bongwoter.tumblr.com/post/627062522468614144/even-medic-has-got-to-let-loose-sometimes
> 
> Please hit me up @falk-hcs if you wanna get in contact!!! Would love to meet and talk with other TF2 writers :))

It wasn’t very often that you witnessed Medic let loose. While he was relatively good-natured (for a medical madman who probably violates the Geneva Conventions), he was endlessly dedicated to his craft of working for his tean. For hours he poured over his work or his prized doves, and even during victory celebrations he only stuck around for maybe an hour or so to take a shot before returning to his messy lab.

While you loved the Medic, it often annoyed you just how dedicated to his work he was. Of course, he was painfully unaware of the feelings you harbored towards him, but it was probably for the best; mercenary-on-mercenary romance seemed, while not strictly forbidden, to be a very frowned upon subject. Most of the Mercs seemed to be distant from each other, although most were quite friendly and pleasant to be around. It hurt a little bit to know that you couldn’t approach the handsome doctor in a romantic way, but you were soldiers in a warzone. And, that aside, you were approaching your late forties, grey was starting to streak your soft hair. Not many folks held interest in an older person who lived in a compound with nine men and fought for gravel as their job. Oh, well.

Romance may have very well been a taboo thing among the BLU team, drinking certainly was not.

As of late, you all had been absolutely stomping RED team. With utterly no mercy, you and the team had been bulldozing them, racking up a win streak of a whopping twelve. On the way back from your definitive victory, there was a surprising amount of loud and excited chatter in the van. Even Spy and Sniper, who were chronically quiet during the drives back, began conversing with the other mercenaries.

The excitement only doubled when everyone got back to the base. Pouring out of the vehicle like a wave of blue-clad adrenaline, you prepared to disperse your own merry ways. However, everyone’s favorite Scotsman suddenly hollered at the top of his lungs, looking like he just had the greatest idea of all time.

“AYE, LADS! LET’S HAVE OURSELVES A DAMNED PARTY! We deserve it!” He hoisted his bottle up high with a massive smile, one eye sparkling with excitement. The silence that followed caused his face to start to twist up and drop, seemingly disappointed that no one else wanted to have fun.

Of course, until dear Heavy spoke up. “Party, you say? Heavy likes that idea.” He approached Demo, who whooped and pumped his fists up in the air. Soldier, of course, followed, with Pyro and Engie close on their heels. They drew away towards the kitchen. Scout looked at you with puckered lips and raised brows, a silent question if you were going. Of course, Scout being Scout, he didn’t wait for an answer, instead booking it after the retreating posse. 

Spy sighed and folded his hands behind his back, rolling his eyes like having some drinks was a massive chore. But by the smile that tugged at his lips, it was clear he didn’t mind it one bit. Sniper shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled subtly, shrugging at you. “I could always go for another drink with the mates.” Then, he swaggered along after them, a little faster of a pace to catch up to the party, already loud and excited. 

So it was just you and dear Medic. You sent him a look, but the man, still dotted with blood, turned on his heel to leave, probably going toward the back door of his labratory. 

“Hey, Mediiiiic-” you all but whined, stepping closer and grabbing one of the straps that went over his shoulders. The German stopped abruptly, turning around to look at you with wide eyes. “Eh? Vhat’s wrong, mein Kumpel?” he asked, calling you his ‘pal’. He only really did it with you, he called everyone else ‘freund’, the masculine term for friend. Of course, you just assumed it was because he wanted to make it clear he only saw you as a friend and nothing else; he treated you no differently than he did the others, so the chances of reciprocation were slim to say the least.

“Won’t you come have some drinks with us? You’ve been so cooped up recently.” He opened his mouth as you let go of him to interject. But you were already on top of it, spitting out “It’s not good for yourself to hole up in your room all day, day after day after day.” He twitched his head back and knitted his eyebrows just a little bit, surprised you had such an answer prepared. And that you were right of course.

“Er, vell, Kumpel,” he began, pushing his glasses up and looking away, a little flustered he was outmanevered so quickly. “I have many experiments going on, it’s not a good idea for me to be away from them for too…” he paused, rubbing his chin. Then he offered a playful sigh, letting his tensed shoulders drop into a more relaxed position.

“Oh, fine. You got me.” He began to move forward, and you quickly moved to keep in pace with him. Your heart fluttered at the knowledge that you convinced him to stick around. He’d probably disappear again, but maybe you could actually get him to stay through the majority of the victory celebration.

As you two walked along, he seemed to walk a little closer to you than normal as you discussed menial things, like Scout’s unwillingness to come back to Medic for healing, or you having to save Soldier’s ass on many occasions because he was too busy staring at pictures of Zhanna in his wallet. You two continued to laugh and chatter, eventually making your way to the main eating and commons area, with a ring of couches attached to a neat little kitchenette.

While everyone was still very excited about the victory, the party started out pretty quietly. Engie brought out a stereo, and began to play some nice music while Demo and Soldier began a drinking contest. Scout switched between singing along to whatever he could and taking vodka shots from Heavy. Sniper seemed to be relaxing, sitting at a chair with his feet up on the table with a glass of rum in his hand. Spy was… drinking concerning amounts of red wine, seeming quite excited by the festivities, while Pyro watched the fireplace. And, of course, Medic sipped on some beers imported from his hometown, while you mingled about, floating from person to person to just chat.

Overall, it was a very pleasant experience. However, maybe an hour and a half after things began to kick off, things began to get a little more wild. Thankfully, Medic had decided to stay, cheerfully remarking how good it was to know the alcohol tolerance of his friends. It was...unnerving to hear him remark that, but you assumed he probably didn’t have any malicious intentions. Probably. On the other hand, Soldier and Demo were now properly sloshed off their asses, loudly arguing who’s best friend was who. Of course, they fought over who’s best friend was Sniper’s. Unfortunately for the Aussie, he seemed to forget he didn’t have the liver of god himself. After seven glasses of rum, he seemed like he had just up and died, but instead he laid, staring at the ceiling. 

Spy was long gone, curling up on the floor after his third bottle of red wine. Heavy and Scout decided to put on some Tom Jones and sang right along with it, and Pyro had decided to just head to bed; they didn’t drink anything.

And Medic was...whew. No wonder you didn’t see Medic get drunk that often. He seemed fairly well put-together, but he stood weirdly stiffly, arms crossed as a dopey smile never seemed to leave his face. Every once in a while he erupted in to girlish giggles, watching everyone with a hawk-like gaze, despite the fact he was very clearly drunk from one too many beers too many.

You were standing right beside him, watching him watch the others with a tiny smile. He was so handsome, and he was downright adorable drunk. His immaculate hair was ruffled, and a flush dusted his cheeks. His glasses were just a bit crooked, too. Oh, he was just perfect.

However, you were snapped out of your stupor when he whirled to face you, suddenly snatching up both of your hands in his massive, still-gloved ones. “My friend! I want to drink with you!” With surprise, you blinked up at him. You thought you already were…?

“I want to, errr….” he looked down, your hands still clasped in his, before he looked back up at you. “Shots! Let us do shots!” After a second of processing it was Medic who was almost begging you to do vodka shots with him, you nodded. You weren’t nearly as drunk as anyone else, and Medic was only moderately inebriated. 

You two booked it to the table, almost shoving Sniper’s dusty ass boots off the table as you reached for the shot glasses and he grabbed the bottle. You lined up multiple, about four, and he filled all of them up to the brim. At this point, you didn’t care, doing something with the Medic was enough for you. 

He grabbed two glasses with a ravenous hunger, before gulping them both down back-to-back. Following his example, you did the exact same, ignoring the fact it tasted like you had just stuffed your mouth full of pine needles. Coughing a little bit, you covered your mouth as he thumped his chest a couple times with a fist before pouring four more shots. Ooohhh, boy. You were about to have a night to be certain.

Just like before, you both swallowed them together, and took a second to recover. Four shots each was definitely enough, and both the doctor and you realized it. So instead he laughed a little bit and said “Hmm. Liebling, maybe we should do some singing with them?” He leaned close to your ear and spoke loud over the blasting stereo, which was set on Sexbomb. Surprised, you leaned and yelled into his ear “You know the lyrics?” to which he nodded. “I was quite the playboy when I was a handsome young man!” And with that, he gripped your hand and dragged you over to where Scout and Heavy were sitting down, regaining breath from their scream-yelling.

Of course, Scout perked up and you two approached, realizing why you two came over. Quickly, he rewound, and started the song from the beginning.

But the shots seemed to affect Medic a lot faster than they got to you. He grabbed a random headband from a table and put it on, excitedly yelling “I GET SWEATY VHEN VERY DRUNK!” Unsure how to respond, you gave him two thumbs up with a wide smile. He kicked off his shoes, to get more comfortable, barely aware of the song continuing to play without your voices. 

Scout, drunk as hell with his weak liver, suddenly jeered at the lunatic doctor. “Ey, take off your damn jacket, man! No one’s worried you ain’t got no muscle!” Both you and Heavy sent the young man incredulous looks. Everyone knew under that jacket, Medic was a very strong and toned individual. The runt had no authority to say that, especially with how twig-thin his arms were.

However, Medic, who was now properly shit-faced, laughed loudly, before grabbing his own collar. “OH YEAH? LOOK AT ZHIS!” and with one hearty pull, he...ripped his shirt and jacked straight down the middle, completely ignoring the regular seams and just obliterating the cloth. Scout looked fucking flabberghasted, and Heavy was taken out of left field.

And before the three of you stood Medic, sweaty as hell, headband on, glasses crooked, and his entire chest exposed. He even seemed to have acquired one too-small flip flop on his left foot, while the other one was completely bare. God knows how the hell that happened while you stared at him, but whatever.

Silence overlapped the four of you, giving the doctor a second to realize he had missed singing to Sexbomb. However, ‘Girls just want to have fun’ miraculously started to play, something he also knew. In a flurry of movement, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and began singing along with his lovely, thick accent. After a second of staring at his surprisingly toned chest and blushing about it, you looked up at him and began singing along, causing him to laugh before continuing.

And continue you did, for hours at that point, until literally everyone but you two had managed to fall asleep where they sat or stumble back to their dormitories. You two just stood in the lobby, sweaty, drunk, with rough voices and you had to support Medic, who seemed to have drunk significantly more than he could safely handle.

You decided to drag him up to his lab, having to use the wall as a support so you didn’t both tumble. All the while, Medic slurred unintelligible German, swaying with your footsteps. Soon enough, you came to the lab and unslung him from your shoulder near his desk. Still drunk, you sat down on the floor to get your bearings, and Medic followed in solidarity, leaning against the wall like you did.

In content silence, you two sat, trying to come down from your intense drunkenness. Well, until Medic spoke, slurring a little but very serious. He called your name, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, raising your eyebrows as he looked away to the ground, seemingly blushing harder.

“I...I think I love you.” He returned to staring intensely into your eyes with a lazer-focus, almost unnervingly.

Of course, those were the LAST words you expected to hear out of his mouth, especially when he tore his jacket to show off his muscular chest, and was covered in sweat after harmonizing to ‘Girls Just Want To Have Fun” with you.

“Well...shit. That’s good…” you murmured, looking up at up him and shuffling closer. It was clear he didn’t plan to do this, and was incredibly awkward about it. He must have lost a lot of his playboy skills since he joined BLU. 

“Can…I kiss you?”

“Of-fucking-course!” you chirped, and lunged forward, capturing his lips with yours. Initially, he grunted in surprise, but eventually melted into the kiss with a happy murmur, cupping your cheek with hiss massive hand. You two kissed until you ran out of breath, tasting each other’s tongues and the booze that lingered on it, and then some. Of course, you both were too drunk and tired to even consider going any farther.

So, with one final kiss to your lips, he decided that he just wanted to sleep. “Stay with me…” he almost whimpered, managing to somehow give you puppy eyes. Of course, you said yes, and the two of you curled up on the cement floor together, you pressed against his warm (but sweaty) chest.  
-Little bonus content-

And, of course, the next morning was rough. Pyro was relatively unaffected, but not everyone was so good. Scout was so dizzy he couldn’t even get up, and Spy, in his older age, did not bode well for passing out on the fucking floor, curled up like a labrador puppy. His back ached, and everyone else was various levels of hungover. Sniper and Spy were the worst for wear, Sniper so hungover he couldn’t properly see.

At around noon, the two of them managed to stumble their way over to Medic’s lab, because they’d passed out before he got really drunk. They chattered politely despite their mutual hatred, and turned the corner to see if Medic was in his office. Instead, of course, Spy almost tripped over your legs and ate cement.

Regaining his stance, they both looked down at you two, curled up peacefully together with happy looks on your faces. Except...Medic had torn his shirt to show his chest, was wearing one of Scout’s exercise headbands, and had one child-sized sandal on one foot. The two men looked at each other before staring at the doctor and you holding each other in your arms.

With an almost mean smile, Sniper nudged the two of you awake with one foot, leaning against the wall so he didn’t fall himself. “Oy, lovebirds. Up and at ‘em. Everyone’s gonna need Doc’s help in a bit.”

Medic was too hungover and only blinked up confusedly at the flourescent lights above you two. However, you immediately assessed the situation. And immediately let out a shriek, causing the two of them to stumble up and Medic to sit up randomly, convinced someone was dying. You were, just on the inside.


End file.
